A VENETIAN WELL-HEAD (XV CENTURY) (In the Gothic room of the Minneapolis Art Institute)

When I behold these grooves, cut in the edge Of Istrian marble by the bucket-ropes, Thy ancient history its romance opes From Zorzi palace garden and its hedge: I see the dark-eyed maidens, near the ledge, And plumed signors feeding ardent hopes From glances darting o’er thy watery slopes: Or hear the lovers whisper soft their pledge, As deep and pure as was thy cooling drink,— The fount of life, the elixir of youth, The well-spring of Venetian art and song, When truth was beauty and all beauty truth;— Even now thy charms can make the weary strong, While pausing at thy side to dream and think.